


Resurgence

by Aureux



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Returned (TV 2015)
Genre: Internal Conflict, Multiple Deaths, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aureux/pseuds/Aureux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Coldwell there dead are well known for not staying dead. No body knows just how long people have been coming back for. But it isn't the town's residents this story is about. </p>
<p>In 1965 a traveling circus of a nondescript name decided to set up for a night while passing through to head to one of the bigger town's nearby. That one night performance claimed the life of one of their main attractions. The Master Marksman and Sharpshooter, the Amazing Hawkeye. </p>
<p>But Clint is very much alive. He has been for years. And any attempt to change that results in his waking up a few days later. </p>
<p>At the core of his revival sits the mysterious setting of his death. But the question is, with his unnatural state, can he even still be considered human? And even if he isn't, does he truly want to die a final death if what keeps him alive is figured out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurgence

_50 Years Ago…_

The sun seared against his back as he worked, each pull of the rope prompting the abused muscles in his back to protest. In the air, half muffled in his bad ear, was the ring leader’s harsh count of three. Each time that number hit, he and the few others on tent duty would pull with all they had. And each time the red and white cloth would raise a little tighter, a little more secure over the metal and wood frame of the tent. The second it was up, the acrobats would descend to scale it and fasten the reinforced loops to keep it in place.

Only then was the blond able to release the coarse braided rope and wipe away the sweat that threatened to get into his eyes. He may have been the youngest guy there, but the beginning of bulky muscles building themselves on his upper body left him with the job. 

“‘Ey Hawke! Your brother’s lookin’ for ya,” 

Hawke looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and buzzing yell to see one of the sword swallowers, Ron, running over to him. 

“Ya know, we both er Hawke right?” He couldn’t help the grin that entered his voice, growing when Ron tossed him a canteen. The liquid felt good against his parched throat, one eye watching the man curiously. 

“But Barn doesn’t have dat aim or creepy stare. No offense man. Just sayin’,” 

“Still’a Hawke too,” Yet he made no effort to correct Ron on anything else. He knew he made people uncomfortable. Didn’t really matter though. He was beyond trying to change how other people saw him. 

The rest of the canteen quickly vanished only for it to return to Ron’s hand.

“Thanks for the water, man. I’ll go ‘n see what big bro wants,”

Hawke was already jogging away before Ron could even begin to respond.

.II.

“So Barn, ya wanted ta see me?” Hawke called into the dimly lit concession area. His arms were folded loosely over his body, back braced against the doorway.

“See, ya call me Barn, butcha put up a fit if I call ya Con,”

“Well Barn’s a buildin’ while Con ain’t exactly somethin’ ya think ta be a good thin’ to do,” 

“Anyway ya done with work?” Barn rubbed his knuckles together. His own nervous tick.

“‘til the show tonight, yeah. Why?” Hawke couldn’t help the suspicion coiling in his gut. It had been a year or two since Barn actually was willing to hang out with him. There was always the excuse of him being busy or Hawke having a show or training. But here he was, on the night of a show no less, asking the archer if he was free.

“Well that ain’t ‘til sundown. How ‘bout we head ta town? My treat,” And that didn’t help the surprise factor any. “Honestly. My treat. Ya seriously think I’d forget ‘bout what today is?”

“Ya haven’t remembered before,” Hawke drawled back, unable to keep the shred of ice out of his voice. True, the two were thick as thieves throughout their time in the orphanage and for a year or two while in the circus. That all changed when he was noticed to be skilled with the bow. Ever since then Barney had kept his distance and shoved his brother away whenever the other boy tried to get close to him. 

“Money here’s tight. Ya seriously think I’d be able ta getcha somethin’ for ev’ry birthday when we’d had ta eat?” One eyebrow raised on the ginger man’s painfully-blocky face. Hawke had to clamp down on the urge to cower at the familiar expression. The older Barney grew, the more and more he looked like their old man. 

“Yeah well…” 

“So ya comin’ or not?” 

His offer was an attempt, an extended olive branch of sorts. Hawke could either accept and maybe begin to mend his relationship with his brother or he could play it safe and say no. Obviously there was a time limit on how long he could take to respond, considering Barn was already posed to walk away. 

“Hey wait. I’ll come with,”

.II.

Later that night, Connor Hawke walked across the tightrope, new bow in hand. It was a gift from his brother, who seemed okay with the fact that he was uneasy about the idea of joining the criminal activities that Barney and his two mentors were up to. Even after that awkward conversation, the older sibling didn’t take the bow back or hit Connor for saying no. He just smiled and told him to think about it. Hawke didn’t have the heart in him to tell Barney he wouldn’t.

Everything was fine. Or so he thought. That was until the loud snap echoed across the big top as he posed in the center of the rope and aimed. Suddenly the line went slack beneath his feet. He was left with hardly a moment to process what was going on before he was free falling to the ground far below. 

A split second of pain greeted him on his landing. A burst in his chest, like it was being blown apart. In the archers final moments he registered with startling clarity that his new bow was currently rammed through his chest. With that came the certainty that he indeed was going to die. 

There was blood on his hand that was still clutching the weapon, blood that was dripping down the body of the reinforced wood. His best birthday present, meant to make up for year of forgotten birthdays, was Connor’s cause of death. In a way it was almost ironic really. Something meant to help Barney reconnect was tearing Hawke away from his brother. 

It took hardly a moment before noticing the impalement for him to go into shock as his body continued to slide down. 

It took moments, moments that felt like hours, before Connor died.


End file.
